


Can't Get Away (So Far Away)

by orphan_account



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Championship Wrestling
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Based on Monday Nitro, Complicated Relationships, DDP doesn't get Sting, Episode Tag, First Kiss, Kayfabe Compliant, M/M, Non-Verbal Character, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2016-07-23
Packaged: 2018-07-26 02:24:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7556401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the ending to the June 9th 1997 episode of Monday Nitro.</p><p>High in the rafters, Dallas wonders why Sting saves him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can't Get Away (So Far Away)

When Dallas came to, the first thing he saw was a blinding light.

 

_Is this...?_

 

He quickly realised that his whole body was aching and that the roar of the crowd could still be heard from far below, so he figured that this was neither heaven or hell.

 

But that begged the question.

 

_What happened?_

 

He remembered Randy, the nWo... he came out because everyone was brawling... that rat Hogan had hit from behind.... then everything went blank.

 

Had the nWo taken him? Where was he?

 

He groaned, sitting up and gasped at who he saw. 

 

Sting.

 

He stood up on shaky legs and looked down, quickly realising that he was on a catwalk high above the arena.

 

"You saved me," Dallas let out in a low voice, realisation dawning, shock in his voice.

 

Sting must've came down the rafters to save him from the nWo. But why? 

 

Ever since he walked out on WCW at Fall Brawl, Sting had been almost like a ghost, un-seen, but haunting the arena with his presence. 

 

Even now that his allegiance to WCW had been made clear, seeing him was still like spotting an eclipse - rare and shocking.  

 

Yet... 

 

Sting had came down from his perch high above the world to save him; and it wasn't like this was the first time. Only a matter of weeks ago, Sting came out with his bat to help him fight off the nWo. 

 

Sure, Sting clearly hated Hogan and company, everybody did.

 

But... it seemed like it was always him.

 

_Why?_

 

What made him special? 

 

 Sting had ignored his earlier comments, looking down with intense curiosity at the fight below, so Dallas spoke again, this time with more force and intensity.

 

"Why?"

 

Sting turned around, looking at him, an unreadable expression on his black-and-white painted, permanently-frowning face.

 

"Why did you save me?" Dallas strained his voice., 

 

Sting looked away from him, and Dallas rolled his eyes, frustrated.

 

  
"Cat got your tongue? Can't speak?" He spoke gruffly, "It seemed like you used to never shut up!"

 

Dallas stormed over on the shaking catwalk, long coat flailing behind him."You hid up here for ages, letting us get beaten by those... assholes!" He pointed down to where Hall and Nash stood boasting in the middle of the ring, like ants below them. "But now, you're suddenly like this... this... superhero! Coming out of nowhere, flying down with your bat... saving us... saving... _me_..." He paused, flustered. "It seems like it's always me!" His voice grew unusually soft. "Why? What makes me so special?"

 

Dallas thought back to the night he tricked the nWo, hitting Hall with the Diamond Cutter. Had Sting been watching?

 

Of course he was... it seemed like the 'franchise of WCW' was always watching their every move. Ever since that night it seemed like he was on Sting's radar.

 

Had that been the catalyst? He _had_ made himself a target for the nWo. Maybe Sting respected that? Not that he would say anything. The man was still completely silent.

 

Dallas looked at Sting again, amazed by the man's transformation. He always had a natural charisma, but now he seemed like something straight out of the pages of an issue of Batman. He didn't seem real, and his attitude both fascinated and confused the Jersey native.

 

The arena was starting to empty, but Sting still looked down, watching closely, long hair covering parts of his face.

 

Dallas shook his head and chuckled. "Guess I'm not gonna get an answer from 'ya, huh? Well," he turned to leave, "I better get goin'. Thanks for saving me again, by the way. I really owe you one."

 

But before Dallas could make his way to the emergency exit, he was grabbed with surprising force. 

 

Before he could so much as let out a gasp, Sting pulled him into a rough kiss.

 

Dallas' entire body stiffened and his mind went blink.

 

Just as quickly as it began though, Sting pulled away and ran into the darkness, once again without a word. 

 

Dallas stumbled backward, grabbing the rope of the catwalk, before he fell off the edge.

 

_How...? What...?_

 

What had just happened?

 

Dallas ran the moment through his head dozens of time, trying to comprehend it. 

 

That did not happen. He imagined it.

 

There is no way Sting would...

 

...especially not _him_.

 

A part of Dallas was tempted to run after Sting and scream at him, begging him to tell him why he kissed him.

 

But he couldn't bring himself too chase him. He wasn't sure why, but he couldn't do it.

 

Instead he simply wiped the kiss mark from his face and walked out of the arena, dazed, trying desperately to forget what happen, his face burning.

 

It was only when he reached the car park that he heard a voice, calling his name.

 

"Dallas!"

 

He whipped around to be greeted by someone who, in his stunned state, he had completely forgotten about.

 

"Kimberly!"

 

She ran over towards him from the other end of the car park, worry in her eyes.

 

  
"Dallas! Are you okay?" She held him.

 

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine."

 

"I was so worried!" Her voice dripped with panic.

 

"Honestly, I'm fine," he forced a laughed "It'll take more than a knock with the belt to take me out!"

 

"What about St-"

 

"I'm fine." He cut her off with unintended anger, "Let's go back to the hotel."  


 

She looked at him, unconvinced, but didn't pursue the subject.

 

"Okay."

 

They made their way to the hotel in almost-complete silence and that night, as Kimberly say beside him, Dallas got no sleep, looking out of the thin curtains of hotel-room window, at the full moon above, still feeling the sensation of Sting's lips on his mouth.

 

Sting's kiss.

 

He wanted to taste it again.


End file.
